Klabautermann
by sphinx01
Summary: Every ship needs its good soul. A day in the life of Roller.


Author's Note: This little plot bunny caught me off-guard, bit me in the back and then joined forces with my treacherous muse to produce the following oneshot. It's not beta'd, so you know what to do if you find any mistakes ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

* * *

**Klabautermann**

xxx

Most of the time they didn't get to see him.

Not because he didn't want to be seen. He wasn't shy or afraid of anything, no, no. It was just that stealth and secrecy were his main functions, and he was used to act upon that programming. Thus his practical invisibility.

Apart from that, Roller was an integral part of the Ark's crew, firmly embedded into all their everyday lives. Granted, it was quite a hard job, but he wouldn't have it any other way. His Autobots needed so much caring, and who but him knew so well how to look after them properly?

xxx

He came out of recharge very early, as always, and as always he started his solar cycle with a light breakfast consisting of a half energon cube. The Prime, whose quarters he shared, was still deep in recharge, and after a quick scan of his vital signs, Roller quietly left the room to commence his morning patrol.

He started with the med bay. There was usually some work for him to do here, as the Ratchet-mech had a habit of throwing his working tools at other 'Bots. It was quite normal for a number of the wrenches to be left forgotten in a corner. Roller had a quick walk around the room to pick up the scattered tools and put them in their proper places. The rest of the med bay - he had to admit that - was exemplary clean and tidy, and luckily there were no patients here today who might have needed attention. Roller left the room with a contented whistle.

xxx

The lab of the Wheeljack-mech was next. Roller had made it his habit to throw a quick glance in there as often as possible, and it was no exaggeration to say that, by doing so, he had already prevented more than one explosion.

He found the Wheeljack-mech in deep recharge on his workbench - nothing unusual - and a small electric generator with several cooked wires and blinking warning lights right beside him. Roller moved quietly to not disturb the recharging mech, turned the generator off and moved the device to a safe distance. Dear Primus, how could anybody be so careless? What luck for them all that he was there and always ready to keep an optic sensor on them.

xxx

The bridge. Roller had his own ways and methods to get here - just as to most of the other rooms on the ship - and to do his regular checks without being too intrusive, but he also knew that there was normally not much to do for him here. The command bridge, he had to hand that much to his Autobots, was a place of professionalism and stern discipline. The Prowl-mech was here this morning, and he definitely knew how to do his job even without Roller's help. But his companion, sitting on one of the working consoles, was the Ironhide-mech.

Roller liked the Ironhide-mech. He was an old friend of the Prime, had known both of them for many vorns now, and Roller never got tired of playing little pranks on him. Nothing really bad, mind you; he'd never hurt one of his fellow Autobots. But there were so many other possibilities...

He sneaked effortlessly underneath the console the Ironhide-mech was working on. A swift scan for the right panel, a quick rewiring - and the screen went dark. The Ironhide-mech flinched in surprise. "What the..?"

The next moment, the screen blinked again, and a message appeared: 'GOTCHA, OLDTIMER!', together with a pixel image of the culprit.

The moment when the Ironhide-mech jumped up from his chair with a roar of "ROLLER!", he was already out on the corridor, giggling his little aft off.

xxx

By now, most of the Autobots had come out of recharge and prepared to take up their various duties. Roller paid a quick visit to the rec room to make sure everyone behaved themselves, and then proceeded with his patrol, checking the monitor control room and the main storage areas. He didn't omit the engine room either, even if those engines hadn't been used for millennia by now. But the Prime always made sure that they were properly maintained, and thus Roller did the same.

A thorough scan of the Ark's surrounding areas concluded his morning duties. As was his habit, he returned to his and the Prime's quarters around midday. The Prime was in his office adjacent to the living quarters and gave him a friendly nod when he rolled in. Roller beeped in greeting, but didn't stop to chat. Instead he retired to his recharge berth where he consumed the rest of his morning ration and then settled down for a quick nap. There was still so much work to be done in the afternoon...

xxx

When he woke from his recharge, he found that the Prime had left his office, but that had been expected. Roller wasted no time and left their quarters to fulfill his next duty.

Since they had crash-landed on Earth, his task list had been expanded to include a new item: keeping an optic sensor on the humans. It was a duty he enjoyed very much, for as strange as they might be, the human creatures had turned out to be loyal, trustworthy and kind companions. However, they were quite vulnerable, especially in an environment like the Ark that was so different from their natural habitat. Somebody had to make sure they didn't get hurt, and who was better qualified for this task than him?

He found all three of them - the two male engineers and the young female - in the rec room together with the Bumblebee-mech and the Jazz-mech. Roller did a thorough check on them, assessed their vital signs and their general health status and scanned for any outward damage.

All data came up clear. And as long as they didn't walk around on the ship alone, they should be safe from any harm. Roller knew that the Bumblebee-mech was very fond of their organic friends, so when he turned to leave the room, he could be sure that he left the humans in good hands.

xxx

He passed the monitor control room on his way back. Out of habit, he threw a quick glance inside - and stopped dead.

The Sunstreaker-mech was on duty. That would have been alright, had the mech had his optics on the screen he was supposed to watch. Instead he had his feet propped up on the console in front of him, his optics offline and all his systems in stand-by mode.

Under no circumstances could such a delinquency go unpunished. Now Roller could have simply woken the offender up, but his CPU quickly provided a much better idea.

Among all the little gadgets Roller carried around in his subspace pocket was also a can of rustproof paint. Giggling, he used one of his grapplers to get it out, and then he rolled closer to the recharging mech and carefully started to scribble large, terran letters onto his chest plates.

Still giggling, Roller subspaced the paint again and then quickly swished out of the room, already looking forward to the Sunstreaker-mech's reaction once he woke up...

xxx

Another successful solar cycle was slowly drawing to a close, but there was still one more thing Roller had to attend to.

This particular project of his was of a more private nature, and he was aware of the fact that he was tiptoeing the thin line to indiscretion with his actions. But he regarded it his principle duty to see to his Autobot's well-being, and sometimes that duty required unusual measures.

The problem was the Hound-mech. It was painfully obvious - at least to Roller - that the scout was desperately in love with that blue and white spy-mech of theirs. Unfortunately and for reasons Roller didn't understand, he was afraid of letting the Mirage-mech know of his feelings, and thus suffered in silence solar cycle after solar cycle. It was a sad and painful thing to watch.

Roller sneaked into the Mirage-mech's quarters using his own, secret pathways. He found them empty, which only served his plan. Carefully he placed the neatly-wrapped box of energon goodies he had prepared onto the recharge berth, together with a data pad that had the Hound-mech's name on its display. It was a very direct approach, yes, but if the Mirage-mech made the first step, then perhaps...

They'd deserve it, he thought as he quietly rolled through the corridors. All his Autobots deserved to be happy.

xxx

It was rather late when he finally returned to their quarters, and yet he found that he was expected. The Prime had two energon cubes ready in the living area and was obviously waiting for Roller to join him.

Roller beeped a cheerful greeting as he rolled in, and was rewarded with a smile. It was of course not visible behind the Prime's battle mask, but Roller could see it in his optics.

"I daresay you have had a successful day?"

Roller beeped again, this time in confirmation. It wasn't really necessary to ask him such a question, as they were, strictly speaking, parts of the same machine, and therefore had free access to each other's data bases. However, this connection wasn't the same as a spark bond, and emotions and personal thoughts tended to get lost in the constant stream of raw data and simple facts between them. Roller always enjoyed sitting with the Prime in the evenings, exchanging thoughts and opinions on the cycle's events, offering and taking advice on different matters and sharing all the little joys and sorrows their Autobots never ceased to cause them.

His last thought when he finally settled down in his recharge berth for the night was the incredibly hilarious memory of the Sunstreaker-mech as he had caught him in one of the washracks, frantically trying to scrub the word "SLEEPYHEAD" off his yellow chest plates.

* * *

_A "Klabautermann" is a North German water sprite who lives on ships and assists the crew in their daily duties. He warns the captain of dangers , but also likes to play all kinds of pranks on his fellow sailors. Every ship has its very own Klabautermann, and he will leave it only if it is bound to sink. This is also the only opportunity for the crew to ever set eyes on him, for the Klabautermann is normally not visible to humans. He only ever shows himself to the crew of a doomed ship._


End file.
